


Black and Blue

by FortunesRevolver



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Do not cross-post without permission., Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers for after November
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortunesRevolver/pseuds/FortunesRevolver
Summary: It had all been part of a careful plan: escape for them, capture for Akira, lay the bait, and wait. Everything had been so meticulously put in place, but so much of the outcome rested on luck. Yet, despite the fact that luck seemed to grace Akira with every breath he took, it never stopped the weight in Yusuke’s chest from growing heavier with every glimpse or whisper of news he heard.One mistake was all it would take for everything to go wrong; so, so wrong. One error, one trip or slip, and the results would be fatal for the one person they all wished so desperately to save.One mistake and it would have been all over.





	Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This had been my entry for the ShuKita Zine _Despite and Hope_. Apparently, I'd completely forgotten to post this after the zine sales stopped like everyone else. I swore I had, but, well... Oops?
> 
> This version as some slight edits since, when I went back and read it, I saw some wordings I didn't like and things I felt could be better. The overall plot has not changed, however.
> 
> Please enjoy this piece if you missed out on the zine!

It had all been part of a careful plan: escape, capture, lay the bait, and wait. Everything had been so meticulously put in place, but so much of the outcome rested on luck. Yet, despite the fact that luck seemed to grace Akira with every breath he took, it never stopped the weight in Yusuke’s chest from growing heavier with every glimpse or whisper of news he heard.

One mistake was all it would take for everything to go wrong; so, so _wrong_. One error, one trip or slip, and the results would be fatal for the one person they all wished so desperately to save.

One mistake and it would have been all over.

* * *

The soft chime of bells draws Yusuke’s attention to the door as his chest gives a particularly painful squeeze. Sojiro is the first to appear, and for one terrifying moment, he thinks the door won’t open again -- but it does, and the second ring brings with it the first true breath of air he’s had in days. A wave of relief cascades over him and washes away the heavy fear and anxiety that had rooted him down to a dark place in his mind. The sudden shift is startling and he almost stumbles on his way to the front door where Akira stands with a familiar, gentle smile.

Ryuji, of course, makes it to Akira first, but Yusuke can’t find it within himself to be upset. Instead, he leans against the nearest booth and hopes the extra support is enough to keep his legs from collapsing beneath him.

“How have you been?!” Ann’s voice draws him back down to reality and he looks to Akira, holding his breath.

“Well, I mean,” Akira smiles again, lop-sided and weary. “I died, so… Pretty good, considering.”

A low rumble of laughter follows and the tension that hovers over all of them starts to fade. Akira shuffles slowly toward one of the tables and Yusuke immediately straightens, moving to sit across from him on one of the bar stools. His eyes burn from a lack of blinking, but he’s afraid of closing them for too long. He hasn’t had Akira within arm’s reach in so long and he needs to see him; needs to know he’s not going to wake up again to a stuffy, empty dorm and another day of fear.

The next few hours are spent trying to make sense of everything that’s happened and ensuring that Sojiro and Sae understand what’s going on. Caution will be absolutely necessary from here on out; Akira’s life still hangs in the balance, and they’re going to need all the help they can get if they’re going to win.

When it finally comes time to leave, Yusuke waits until the others have slipped out the door before he finally exists himself. He barely makes it a few feet from Leblanc before he stops, his legs no longer listening to his brain’s commands to take him back to the dorms. The weight he’d been carrying in his chest feels as if it has returned and found a new home in his throat. It leaves him reeling and he has no idea how to address it.

He’s experienced loss before; even if he couldn’t remember his mother clearly, the emptiness from her absence had been felt all his life. Madarame’s arrest had had its own repercussions as well, but disappointment and the outstretched hands of his friends had been enough to carry him though. Certainly, there had been reason to be afraid before, but Akira is safe and sound in the attic, where he should be. There was no realistic reason to feel as if Akira had been taken from him too.

But he could have been.

For several, terrifying hours after the announcement of the leader of the Phantom Thieves suicide, he _had_.

“You’re still here?”

Yusuke jumps, alarm flickering across his face as Sojiro eyes him from the cafe door, a pair of keys dangling from his grasp.

“I…” Yusuke’s voice fades out when no words come. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain what he’s feeling, but Sojiro seems to read something in his expression and motions him closer.

“Come on,” he urges, his normally gruff voice soft. “I didn’t feel right leaving him alone right now anyway.”

Yusuke hesitates for only a moment before he hurries forward. Behind Sojiro, he can feel Futaba’s gaze follow him until he’s through the door and only turns when he hears her speak.

“...take care of him, Inari.” He’s not used to hearing her voice so calm and soft, especially when directed at him. There’s no teasing note in her tone and only a curiously warm look in her eyes. Something he almost thinks he should find dangerous. “There’s a first-aid kit in the kitchen. Probably. I told Sojiro he needed one.”

“I’ve _had_ one,” Sojiro grunts and gives Futaba a gentle push toward the road. “It’s in the kitchen on the wall, and there’s leftover curry in the fridge. Make sure he eats.”

Yusuke nods and makes his way toward the kitchen. Even as a frequent consumer of discount meals and cheap instant noodles, he can’t imagine the quality of food Akira must have been given when incarcerated. If he was given any at all. The thought makes Yusuke’s chest ache, but knowing Akira, food won’t be an easy task right now. He’s never been one to show his wounds; even through blood and bruises he’d sat downstairs and made jokes mere moments ago.

Yusuke has no idea where to begin, but the first aid kit gripped in his hands as he makes his way up the stairs seems a good start.

* * *

As soon as he reaches the top landing, Morgana is halfway across the room and meeting Yusuke’s gaze with an even glare. “You came back,” he says, leaping up onto the table better see Yusuke’s face. He eyes the first aid kit and he nods in satisfaction, flicking his tail in the direction of the bed. “I guess I can give you permission to go see him, then.”

Yusuke scoffs, a protest ready on the tip of his tongue; there is only _one_ person who has any right as to whether or not he can stay, but a soft voice catches him off-guard.

“Yusuke…?” Akira’s head appears from under a mound of blankets on the bed. “Did you forget something?”

It feels as if all the air has rushed out of his lungs as Yusuke walks over to the bed. The first aid kit in his hands feels heavy under Akira’s gaze, silent and questioning, until he finally motions to the bed.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Yusuke begins, his voice hoarse, “but I couldn’t help but notice…” Yusuke trails off, staring at a bruise that peers over the collar of Akira’s neck. It makes something inside him burn; angry and vivid. How could _anyone_ dare to lay their hands on him?

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Akira smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, not like it used to.

“Akira…” Yusuke doesn’t know what to say or how to explain. He hardly knows what is holding him together, let alone what he wants to say in being here. Instead, he simply tightens his grip on the kit and gives it a small shake. “If I could…”

Akira looks down, silent for several moments before he pulls back. For a moment, Yusuke thinks he’s accidentally overstepped a boundary -- it wouldn’t be the first time -- but his shoulders sag in relief as Akira sets his glasses aside and begins to slowly peel away his clothes. Each layer reveals something new and every wince or catch of breath from the brush of cloth or a movement too quick makes Yusuke’s eyes burn.

When Akira is left in nothing but his boxers, Yusuke stubbornly blinks the sensation away and looks him over. The pale, creamy skin is covered in dark purple blooms that Yusuke _wishes_ he could call beautiful. Patches of skin flare red from inflammation, with cuts caked over in brown, dried blood stretching between them like an angry web. He’s longed to see Akira exposed so many times; to run his fingers over the one canvas he’s never dared to touch so intimately and paint it in countless colours.

This is far from anything he ever imagined.

He’s never performed first-aid on anyone before, not without a spell in the other world, and his knowledge of treatment is basic at best. Being an artist and constantly working with his hands, he’s had his fair share of minor injuries, but never anything on this scale. He hardly knows where to start, but a voice in the back of his mind rumbles deep in comfort and guides him through the motions. Each bruise and cut are given equal care; gentle and thorough until everything he can see and find has been addressed.

When he finally sits back to look over his work, amusement almost manages to bubble over in his chest. With the bruises no longer visible, the amount of gauze on Akira almost looks like a costume -- something that _should_ be comical, but the sorrow lingering in Akira’s eyes is a stark reminder of what lies beneath.

“I look a little ridiculous,” Akira smiles faintly and touches one of the bandages on his face, “don’t you think?”

Yusuke’s voice catches in his throat and he shakes his head firmly, pushing the box in his lap aside. “You look magnificent,” he replies and brings a hand up to take Akira’s in his own. “As always.”

Akira snorts, but is unable to hide the dusting of red that spreads over his cheeks as Yusuke brushes his lips over the back of his hand. “You’re just saying that.”

“Even the world of art is not made by beauty alone.” Yusuke’s voice is soft as he speaks and presses his cheek into Akira’s palm. “Many paintings depict the most grotesque of images and twisted fates.”

“Oh?” Akira tilts his head and something playful sparks in his eyes. “So I’m grotesque now?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Yusuke’s tone is firm as his eyes bore into Akira’s. “You are still a true work of art and my most cherished muse.”

“Yusuke…”

“Nothing will ever change that. No mark, bruise, event, or Shadow.”

Silence falls over the room as Akira seems to stumble over something he wants to say, but only a soft, incoherent babble of whispers manages to pour out. Something wet hits Yusuke’s lap, and for a moment, he thinks Akira has managed to reopen a wound. His thoughts are cut off before he can share them as Akira tips forward and falls into Yusuke’s lap, pressing his face into his shoulder.

“Akira--”

“I was scared.” Akira admits, pressing closer. “After Sae left, I thought… I wasn’t sure I’d convinced her. I didn’t have any control after that, and if I hadn’t said enough to make her believe Futaba…”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Yusuke cuts him off before he can voice the same fear that had haunted him for the past few days. “You’re here. You’re _home_. And, so long as it is within our power to do so, all of us will keep you safe.”

“Harboring a fugitive is a pretty big offence.” Akira murmurs, his voice muffled by the fabric of Yusuke’s shirt.

“One that somewhat pales in comparison to some of the things we’ve done, I’m sure.” Yusuke responds and wraps his arms gently around Akira’s waist to reslish in the warmth he finds there. It’s the most real thing he’s felt in _days_ and he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Judging by the grip Akira has on him, at least he hopes, Akira doesn’t either.

Neither knows how long they sit there, but by the time Morgana leaps up onto the bed, the light that had been filtering through the window had faded away to the dull pale glow of the moon.

“Hey,” Morgana huffs and begins to flick Yusuke’s back with his tail. “You two need to eat.” He pauses, then adds before any argument might be made: “ _I_ need to eat.”

“Ah…” Yusuke draws back, thoughtful as he brings a finger up to his chin. “It occurs to me that I had not mentioned this: there is spare curry in the fridge, or so I was told. My talent in the kitchen may be minimal, but I am confident I could easily heat enough up for both of us.”

“Wha--hold on! What about me?”

“I would assume the opening of a can does not even need addressed.”

Akira smiles again and Yusuke feels lighter as the hand he offers to help Akira to his feet is accepted. “I can take care of Morgana,” he insists.

“Tomorrow you may.” Yusuke chastises. “However, for tonight, I will see to it that your duties are taken care of. Most fortunately, cats are very independent creatures.”

“Hey!” Morgana protests, “I’m not a cat!”

“Then you should be even more capable of handling yourself.”

“Ooooh…” Morgana growls, but follows the pair toward the stairs with a feigned huff of annoyance. “This is the thanks I get for watching over him…”

“I promise you,” the shift of tease to gratitude in Yusuke’s tone takes Morgana by surprise and he stops. “We are all grateful for everything you’ve done. While we may have worked as a team, we owe a great deal to you and Futaba for all of this. And I… I am particularly thankful that he has made it out safely.”

Silence falls over them again and Yusuke feels Akira press closer against his side. Carefully, he tries to readjust his arms to better compensate for the added weight and suddenly feels very awkward. Emotions have never been his strong point, and he feels as if he’s used up a week’s worth in only a few hours.

“Food sounds good,” Akira hums and peers over his shoulder, “and I think there’s some leftover fish too.”

“Great!” Morgana’s mood immediately lifts and he darts down the stairs. “What are you waiting for? Fish is waiting for me!”

Akira laughs, soft and quiet, but it sounds beautiful to Yusuke. Every shift and word begins to feel like a wonderful reminder of hope that Akira is _here_ , that they did it, that they’re going to _win._

“Come on, Yusuke,” Akira murmurs and Yusuke feels fingers thread between his. “You must be starving.”

It feels almost ironic, that Akira could be talking about _his_ hunger when he doubts Akira has had anything of substance since he was captured, but the normalcy of it all is fantastic. He squeezes Akira’s hand in turn and helps him amble down the stairs to the kitchen.

Soon, the familiar aroma of curry and coffee fills the cafe as they curl up on the same bench, shoulders pressed together as the TV drones on in the background, grounding them to reality that everything was going to be okay.


End file.
